


Peak Shift

by romana2525



Series: Five Times Jane Was Maura's Plus One [2]
Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-10
Updated: 2011-06-10
Packaged: 2017-10-20 07:09:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romana2525/pseuds/romana2525
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maura wants to take Jane to an art exhibit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peak Shift

**Author's Note:**

> TITLE: Peak Shift  
> PART: 1/1  
> SERIES: Five Times Jane Was Maura's Plus One, Part 2/5  
> AUTHOR: romana2525 (romana2525@gmail.com)  
> FANDOM: Rizzoli & Isles  
> PAIRING: Jane/Maura (pre-slash)  
> RATING: PG  
> SPOILERS: All of first season  
> THANKS: Big thanks to anthro06 beta reading. All mistakes are mine, all mine.  
> DISCLAIMER: I don’t own them. They belong to Tess Gerritsen and TNT.  
> SUMMARY: Peak, shift, a phenomenon in which the peak of an excitatory generalization gradient shifts away from the S+ in a direction opposite the S- when the discriminative stimuli are intradimensional. I always wanted to use this as a title for a story. :) Also, the role of the peak shift phenomenon in aesthetics is a real thing. You can read a little about it here: http://www.pbs.org/howartmadetheworld/episodes/human/ramachandran/  
> COMMENT1: Second in a series. The challenge here, honestly, was to write this without making Maura seem like a complete jerk. :P Seriously, this one completely got away from me. I had something fairly different in mind when I sat down to write it, but this is what came out instead.  
> COMMENT2: These are all loosely-connected one-shots. They are all more or less stand alone stories, but it is best to read them in order. Comments and constructive criticisms are always appreciated.

“Come on, Maura,” Jane said good-naturedly, holding up the preliminary toxicology report. “You can be more specific than ‘unidentified substance,’ can’t you?” They were seated at Jane’s desk reviewing the details of their latest case. Maura had completed the autopsy on the young woman an hour ago, and they were discussing the results while waiting for the crime lab data to come back. They had decided to eat at Jane’s desk as they discussed the file rather than go out. The bullpen was presently empty, save for themselves, everyone else out on cases or at lunch.

Maura shook her head. “No, I can’t.”

“Wasn’t there anything on the body to suggest it might be poison?” Jane needed a lead, and this looked to her to be the most likely bet. But Maura wasn’t giving her enough to go on just yet.

Maura thought about it for a moment. “Some toxins have a unique constellation of symptoms. Ciguatoxin, for example, is released by dinoflagellates which are consumed by fish, such as red grouper. Ciguatoxin produces several interesting symptoms in humans, including a reversal of hot and cold sensations on the skin and…”

“And none of that helps us because our Jane Doe can’t tell the difference between hot and cold anymore, Maura,” Jane said quickly to halt the flow of information she knew was coming.

Maura pursed her lips. “Other toxins present with a variety of symptoms and it’s often hard to tell them apart without more careful testing. All of which I’ve ordered in the follow-up. Until then, you’ll have to settle for ‘unidentified substance.’” She smiled sympathetically at Jane.

“You’re only doing this because I made you call that rust-colored stain blood the other day,” Jane muttered. She cashed in on the deal they’d made at the marathon the other day, when they’d been called in for the body of a forty-five year old man who had been found face down in his pajamas in his living room. There’d been a stain on his collar which was obviously blood, and Jane had badgered her until she’d finally acquiesced. The way Maura’s face had contorted as she said the word “blood” still made Jane laugh, and she wished she’d had a camera. Now, Jane was sure Maura was getting back at her, even though she’d been right; the blood had come from an ice pick that had been shoved into the guy’s ear then removed. For some reason, whoever had done it had carefully wiped most of the blood away, and they’d yet to figure out why.

Jane blinked twice, willing herself not to get sidetracked by another case. “You’re not even ruling her death a homicide?” Jane glanced up at Maura, looking at her from over the autopsy report.

Maura was beginning to get exasperated, Jane could tell. “We don’t know what the substance is, so we don’t know if it was the cause of death. All I can say definitively is that there were substantial quantities of an unknown chemical in her bloodstream. There’s no indication that she was forced to consume any of it, and no needle marks or bruises on her body.”

“But she could have been forced to take it at gunpoint. Or not known it was poison by someone who gave it to her.”

“Speculation, Jane,” Maura admonished.

“I don’t know, Maura, I just have a feeling about this one,” Jane said, sorting through the paperwork again before studying the photograph of the victim carefully.

“Feelings are not admissible in court.”

“Yeah, well sometimes I think they should be.” Jane glanced up at movement by the entrance of the bullpen. “Ma, what are you doing here?”

“I was just in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d bring you some lunch,” Angela Rizzoli said, strolling over to Jane’s desk.

“Hello, Mrs. Rizzoli,” Maura said, smiling.

“Maura, how nice to see you.”

“You just happened to be in the neighborhood?” Jane asked, skeptically. That was unlikely, Jane knew.

Angela made a face at Jane. “Carla Talucci and I were at the museum. See, I brought you a fifteen dollar sandwich from there.” She held up a bag with “Museum of Fine Arts” emblazoned on it. “It better be a work of art for that price,” Angela said to Maura, who smiled.

“Why were you at the art museum?” Jane asked. “And with Carla Talucci? You can’t stand her.”

“That’s not true,” Angela said. “Besides, she’s much nicer to be around now that her colitis has cleared up. In more ways than one.”

Jane rolled her eyes.

“It can be unpleasant,” Maura said, sympathetically. “It’s caused by inflammation of the large intestine, which can produce diarrhea, abdominal bloating, and bloody stools.”

Both Jane and Angela stared at Maura for a second. “Thanks, Ma,” Jane said, grabbing the sandwich bag from her mother and tossing it into her desk drawer. “I’ll just save this for later, when my appetite comes back.”

“Oh, I brought you this, too,” Angela said, fishing out a smaller paper bag from her purse. “I saw it in the gift shop, and it reminded me of that artist you like, so I bought it for you.” She handed it to Jane.

Jane pulled a postcard print of a painting of a woman running through a field. The colors were vibrant, and the features of the woman were exaggerated, though not quite to the point of caricature. “Ma, this is nothing like her work,” Jane said, tossing the postcard down onto her desk. “Why are you really here?”

Out of the corner of her eye, as she waited for her mother to reveal the real reason she was here, she watched Maura pull the postcard to her, and study it intently.

“What? I brought you lunch,” Angela said. “Which it wouldn’t kill you to thank me for, by the way. And I figured since I was in the neighborhood, I’d just make sure you were coming to Sunday dinner,” she admitted after Jane glared at her.

“What? I always come to Sunday dinner. Why is it so important I be there?” Jane asked. Then her eyes widened in horror. “Who did you invite? Who are you trying to set me up with?”

“It’s a surprise,” Angela said, smiled brightly at Jane.

“No,” Jane said, raking her hand through her hair. “Ma, no. Just no. No. Sunday dinner is family time. Not…get Jane hitched time.”

“It can be both,” her mother said.

Jane leaned back, and glanced over at Maura, who had lost interest in the postcard and was staring at them, her expression half confused, half amused. “Besides, I can’t come,” Jane said. “Maura and I have plans, isn’t that right, Maura?”

Maura sat up a little straighter, panic creeping into her eyes as she shook her head slightly at Jane, lips parted. “Yeah, Ma,” Jane continued, not giving her time to speak. “We’ve been planning it for weeks, so I guess you’ll just have to have Sunday dinner without me.”

“What have you been planning for weeks?” Angela said, suspiciously. “You know you’re supposed to be home for dinner every Sunday. Maura, what is happening on Sunday that’s so important?”

Inwardly, Jane cringed. She should never have put Maura in this position, but she was the only one here. And Maura looked like a deer caught in headlights as Angela glared at her. Jane gave Maura a wide-eyed stare and quick jerk of her head, willing her to figure out some way to cooperate, just this one time.

“There’s a…” Maura began, weakly, her eyes darting around the room, as if she was looking for a way to escape. “An exclusive showing on Sunday at an art gallery that I’ve been invited to,” Maura began. When Angela frowned at her, Maura added “Emily Cecile,” as if that explained everything.

The name caught Jane completely by surprise. “Really? I love her stuff,” she said, genuinely interested, forgetting for a moment that she was supposed to know all about this. “I mean, yeah!” she said, trying quickly to cover, and looked back up at her mother. “And you know how much I like her work, Ma, so…”  
At that, Maura, who had paled considerably, looked over at Jane with interest. “You like Emily Cecile’s work? How come I don’t know this?” Her voice was filled with wonder.

Jane waved her hands, trying to shush her, but it was too late. “I see how it is, Jane Marie Rizzoli! Lying to your mother! And getting Maura to lie for you, too! You should be ashamed of yourself!”

“Technically, nothing I said was a lie, Mrs. Rizzoli,” Maura said, quietly. At Angela’s glare, she quickly went back to studying the postcard.

“Then I’ll make it simple for you, Ma. I’m not coming to Sunday dinner, how’s that? And, in fact, I won’t be coming to any more Sunday dinners if you keep using family time to set me up. I know Daddy can’t approve of this,” Jane said.

“Oh, so you’re going to sit home, all by yourself on Sunday?”

“No, she’s coming with me to the gallery,” Maura said.

“Maura, it’s OK, you don’t have to cover for me anymore,” Jane said, glancing sheepishly over at her friend. “Ma’s figured it out.”

Maura ignored her. “Do you really like Cecile’s work?” she asked Jane.

What did this have to do with anything, Jane asked herself, but it might just be enough to distract her mother long enough for them all to get past this scene. “I do, actually,” Jane said. “Are you surprised?” she challenged, a slight edge to her voice. While she tried not to let their class differences come between them, old habits sometimes fell hard.

“Yes,” Maura said simply.

“Thanks,” Jane said defensively. Between Maura and her mother this was turning into a pretty stellar lunch for her ego.

“I mean, you’ve never expressed any appreciation for art before,” Maura explained. “Cecile’s style is very unique. I heard her speak several months ago on the phenomenon of peak shift in art. Did you know that our tendency to find exaggeration of the human form aesthetically pleasing is a property of our nervous system’s experience discriminating intradimensional stimuli? Psychologists documented this decades ago, when they discovered supernormal stimuli.”

“I understood about three words in all of that,” Angela said with a chuckle.

Keep it up, Maura, Jane thought. She might get them both off the hook after all.

“It’s why we often see the human form with certain features enlarged and emphasized, especially those involving reproductive activities.” Maura was leaning forward, now, eagerly explaining art to them.  
“You mean like how women in comic books all have D-cups?” Jane asked.

Maura stopped and tilted her head to the side, looking confused for a moment. “I don’t know,” she said seriously. “I’ve never read a comic book.” Jane would never admit it to anyone, but she loved watching Maura when she was like this, in full Google mode.

“Anyway,” Angela said, breaking in. “Is Jane going with you or not on Sunday?”

“She is,” Maura said. “You will?” She looked so excited Jane couldn’t bring herself to say no, though to be honest, she wasn’t sure she wanted to spend all Sunday afternoon dressed up and hanging around rich people. But, she did genuinely like Emily Cecile’s work, and it would be a new experience. Maura spent enough time in her world, the least Jane could do is spend a little time in hers.

“All right,” Jane said quietly, and grinned back at the delighted smile Maura gave her.

Maura reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. “I’ll just call Calvin and tell him I’m taking someone else,” she said, dialing a number with her thumb. Angela and Jane looked at each other in surprise.  
“Maura, wait!” Jane said, putting her hand over the other woman’s to stop her. “You didn’t tell me you already had a date!”

“He’s someone on the board of another charitable endowment I serve on,” Maura said, then frowned at their confused expressions. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“Well, no,” Jane said. “No, you should go with him. You can’t just call him up and tell him you’re taking someone else.”

“Why not?” Maura asked.

“Because,” Jane said, as if that explained everything.

“At least make up an excuse or something,” Angela said. “Let him down easy.”

Maura looked completely confused. “I don’t understand,” she said. “I’d rather go with Jane.” For a moment, she sounded like a petulant child. “Besides, he simply wants to go out with me for sex,” Maura said. “We could just as easily go to dinner, and do that afterwards,” she added.

Jane covered her face with her hands, mortified that Maura had said this in front of her mother. She shifted her fingers slightly, and glanced at Angela out of the corner of her eye. Angela was staring at Maura, dumbfounded.

“I couldn’t lie to him,” Maura declared. “And, why is that better, anyway? Besides, we’re all adults here,” she said. She started to dial her phone again.

Jane reached over and grabbed the phone from her hand. “You see, this is why you don’t have any friends,” she said, irritated over the whole situation.

“Jane,” Angela said, quietly.

Jane sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

Jane was suddenly reminded of all those times in high school. She’d make plans with her friends, only to have them cancel on a moment’s notice because a guy called. Except, this was sort of in reverse.  
Her mother was apparently thinking along the same lines. “This has never happened to you before, has it, Maura?” Angela asked her kindly.

“What?”

“Who do you hang out with? Your girlfriends, or do you ditch them in a second for a guy,” Jane said. The latter had happened to her dozens of times in high school.

“You should be flattered, Janie,” Angela said. “She’s choosing you over the guy. I remember how much that used to hurt you when you were a teenager.”

“It used to piss me off,” Jane corrected her.

“Same thing with you,” Angela said. She and Jane exchanged a smile.

Maura sat watching the whole exchange, looking completely mystified. “Can I have my phone back?” she asked, holding out her hand.

There was no point in explaining things further. Jane felt her chest constrict slightly as she reluctantly handed the phone back to Maura. Not for the first time, she wondered what growing up had been like for Maura. While a part of her was glad Maura had never had to put up with having girlfriends abandon plans without warning, she felt sad at the realization that for Maura there had been no girlfriends to make plans with in the first place.

She and Angela watched as Maura dialed a number, then waited for someone to pick up. “Hello, Calvin?” Maura laughed. “Yes, about that. My friend Jane, I mentioned her to you? Well, I’d really like to take her to the gallery showing on Sunday.” She listened for a moment. “No, instead of you,” she said. Jane rolled her eyes.

“I give him ten more seconds and he hangs up,” Angela leaned down and whispered into Jane’s ear. Jane waved her away.

“I was thinking we—“ Maura frowned, then pulled the phone away from her ear. “He hung up,” she said, turning the phone off.

“Well, that takes care of that, then” Angela said, cheerfully. “I have to head out. You two have a good time on Sunday,” she added, leaning down to kiss Jane on the cheek and waving to Maura as she left.  
Jane sat there and studied Maura for several moments. Maura turned her attention back to the autopsy report spread out in front of them. She was making a good show of trying not to be bothered, but Jane could tell she was agitated.

“We have to work on your people skills,” Jane said, softly.

Maura sighed. “Jane, I’ve been working on them my whole life. If I haven’t figured it out by now, I think it’s safe to say I’m not going to. But maybe you can explain something to me,” she added.  
“What’s that?”

“You wanted to lie to your mother to get out of Sunday dinner. And, then you wanted me to lie to Calvin. Why? Why is lying better?”

Jane sighed. “Lots of reasons. Mostly, to save face and to avoid a scene.” She couldn’t believe she was sitting here explaining the purpose of lying to Maura. “Let’s say, for example, you sleep with a guy and he’s not very good in bed. But he asks you how he was. It’s just easier to lie to him. He gets to feel good about himself, and you get to avoid a messy scene. Everybody wins.”

“But, you didn’t win, because you had a subpar sexual encounter. And, he goes away with the wrong idea about his sexual prowess,” Maura said. “So the next person he sleeps with loses, too. If you told him the truth he could work on his technique, improve…”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Jane said, rubbing her eyes. She suddenly didn’t want to be having this conversation. “Most of us don’t like having our faults pointed out to us,” she said. “We don’t use them as opportunities for self-improvement,” she added, smiling wryly.

“Suppose I had lied to Calvin,” Maura said. “Made up some story about how we couldn’t go to the showing together. And then he found out I lied to him about it, that I went anyway with someone else.”

“Speculation, Maura,” Jane said, wagging her finger at her. “You don’t know he’ll find out when you lie to him. It’s a chance you take.”

“People always find out, Jane. You’re a detective. You know that people eventually get caught in lies better than anyone.”

“Lying to cover up a murder is not quite the same thing as lying to get out of a date,” Jane said, laughing.  
“To me, it is,” Maura said, and Jane realized she was serious. “And you’re right,” Maura continued. “It’s why I don’t have friends. One of the reasons, anyway.”

Jane felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She really shouldn’t have said that. “I’m sorry about that,” she said, sincerely.

“But why?” Maura asked. “It’s the truth. Why should you apologize for telling the truth?”

“Because it hurt your feelings,” Jane said, shrugging.

“Being lied to hurts more,” she said softly.

Maura sat there, giving Jane a look she couldn’t fathom. There was something akin to resignation in Maura’s eyes, Jane realized after a few moments. But to what, she wondered.

And then it hit her.

She may be Maura’s closest friend, her only friend, but Jane suddenly understood that Maura fully expected to alienate Jane at some point, when her inappropriateness, her brutal honesty become too much and Jane simply began to came up with excuses to not be around her anymore. To lie about what she was doing and why, to exclude her.

Just like everyone else.

“All right,” Jane said, leaning toward Maura. “I promise never to lie to you to spare your feelings. How’s that?” She extended her hand to Maura, resisting the temptation to spit into her palm like they used to do as kids. She didn’t think Maura would go for that at all. “Shake on it.”

Maura looked stunned. Then, she grinned and took Jane’s hand. “Deal,” she said. For a second, Jane wanted to pull her hand away, the enormity of what she was offering sinking in. But she didn’t. “And of course I promise the same.”

“Aw, Frost, look, they’re holding hands and making promises,” Korsak cooed, sauntering into the bullpen and breaking the mood.

Frost looked like he was about to say something, but the death glare Jane shot him changed his mind.  
Maura laughed, and stood. “What time should I pick you up on Sunday?” she asked Jane. “And, what are you planning to wear?”

Jane glanced over at Korsak and Frost as Maura spoke, daring them to say something. “Let’s…discuss it over drinks at the Dirty Robber tonight after work,” she said, waving Maura away. “I have to put these two deadbeats to work now.”

The End 


End file.
